


A Place to Rest

by TheGrammarHawk



Series: Verdant Flower, Crimson Wind [6]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Twins, Gen, Post-Canon, Post-Time Skip, Verdant Flower/Crimson Wind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:01:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22046035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGrammarHawk/pseuds/TheGrammarHawk
Summary: When Hubert sensed a swell of dark magic in the market, he had never suspected the day would end with him taking home a new child.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth, Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Series: Verdant Flower, Crimson Wind [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1586869
Comments: 4
Kudos: 72





	A Place to Rest

**Author's Note:**

> aka the Amira von Vestra origin story,,, aka Hubert snatches a child
> 
> bolded text is in Almyran!

Garreg Mach Monastery was once again growing chilly as Red Wolf Moon crept along, skies turning gray and all plants outside of the greenhouse withering. Still, it wasn’t a windy day, so there were plenty of people ambling around the market.

Some such people included the most important figureheads of the country of Fódlan, in particular.

The Archbishop was relatively bundled up, wearing warmer robes than usual and lacking the usual revealing clothing she was fond of, while her husband was _very_ warmly dressed. The youngest of their children was still tucked away inside, though the other three were running about, greeting merchants warmly and having fun waving to the other children and students that roamed.

They were put out that their cousins hadn’t come along with the emperor and her husband, but apparently Reinhilde was busy with her studies and Amalric had a fever. They had been left in the all-too capable hands of the Prime Minister while their parents were gone.

Hubert was babysitting the parents themselves, as per usual. After all, this had been less a family get together and more a political meeting, so it was only natural he accompanied Edelgard just in case an assassination attempt arose against so many of the political heads of the nation. Claude and Byleth didn’t have proper retainers, though by now the Knights of Sothis appeared to be filling the role. Catherine and Shamir were, at the very least, meant to protect the archbishop, given they had filled the roles of co-captains of the knights. Alois, if anything, had retired from his position in order to more personally guard his pseudo-sister.

Yet all had gone well. The monastery was just as lively as ever, yet far safer than it had been during their academy year. Nevertheless, Hubert kept his eyes peeled for danger or simply troublesome miscreants as Edelgard looked over the armory fondly, a small smile on her lips from some quip Claude had made a moment ago. She was looking over the different swords; Amalric would be ten within the year and he seemed to favor them over other weapons, unlike his sister, who had immediately latched on to reason.

Hubert could not help his smugness when the princess ran after him day to day to ask to train. After all, Gottfried and Ludolf both seemed to have no talent nor interest in magic, instead preferring lances and axes, respectively, a fact that irked Hubert to no end. Neither of them were suited whatsoever to the Vestra lifestyle, Ludolf especially so, and yet Hubert hadn’t exactly gone about outsourcing a successor. Perhaps part of him still believed Ferdinand would be the one to become restless and seek another child, but the boys were getting older at ten and eight, and Ferdinand had said nothing.

Of course, Hubert realized the Vestra heir did not _need_ to be their child, but he also hadn’t gone out of his way to identify any children that would fill the role regardless. He was hardly a fan of kids as it was, no reason for him to seek them out.

Even so, he kept an eye on the heirs to the monarchy and Almyra. Xavier was a bit timid around him still, though Riviera and Nordan didn’t seem to be so bothered.

It was when a curious Nordan turned to a produce vendor that Hubert first sensed something wrong. A prickle raced through the air and made the hair along his arms and on the back of his neck stand on end, a feeling he was rather accustomed to when he went about his darker business or even during training with Reinhilde. The sense of nearby magic was unfamiliar, however, and it was with an unnecessary cursory glance that Hubert determined that it wasn’t coming from either of the twins nor Edelgard herself. Neither Claude nor his children had any predisposition for reason, especially not the kind Hubert currently felt surrounding them.

It wasn’t black magic, it was _dark_ magic, and it was building in strength, enough so that both the imperial consort and archbishop seemed to have taken note of it as well. While Byleth seemed to take stock of it and relax into the arm around her waist fairly quickly, her brother was much more suspicious, a look sent to Hubert being all he needed for permission to investigate further.

With that in mind, he stalked off, approaching the vendor Nordan had paused by. He rounded it, going behind the stall, and wasn’t surprised to find the perpetrator of the magic to be lingering there.

He _was_ surprised, however, to find that it was a child. She wore an old, faded dress that looked like it would have belonged to a child of priests or even a servant, her skin was dark and so was her hair, which was thick and unruly, with a fraying braid and other locks escaping their confines, forming a curly halo around her little head. There were paler scars on her hands and one that traced up her face, daunting for such a small child, and her eyes were bright and green and full of racing thoughts that reminded Hubert of Claude in more ways than one.

Her tiny fists were clenched tightly and a violently dark miasma swirled around her hands and feet, her whole body shaking as she glared seemingly through the stall and straight at the vendor.

Hubert allowed himself a bit of smugness as he folded his arms, smirking slightly as the little girl spooked at the sight of him.

“What is it that you think you’re doing? Rather young to be a criminal.”

Though she startled, the miasma returned to her fists within a moment, impressive in Hubert’s mind as she turned her glare on _him_. The only other children that had ever dared such a malevolent look were his own when they were cranky infants, upset that their father was endeavoring to give them baths. Not even Reinhilde nor Amalric had ever turned such a foul gaze to him.

“No give food! Wanted it!”

Hubert quirked an eyebrow up, surprised that a toddler that was surely unfamiliar with him would be so willing to snarl back with such force. Her words were a little choppy when compared with her size, but then again the only children Hubert had ever really experienced were noble ones with an overabundance of care and tutors. Between her scowl and her warm accent, she almost sounded like Cyril.

“You cannot kill a shopkeeper out in the open. If you _must_ act upon your violent whims, do it under the cover of night when less are likely to sense your magical signature or see you.”

Now the girl seemed to falter, magic dimming a bit as she stared with suspicion. “No… **I do not understand**. You words big.”

There it was. Foreign sounds slipped off her tongue, but there was no doubt to their origin. This was most certainly an Almyran child.

Hubert took a single step forward; the girl immediately picked her hands up in defense, a dark purple bolt shooting at him.

There truly _was_ a significant power behind the magic. It ached and bubbled angrily where it hit Hubert in the chest, just along the ribs below his heart. Spectacular aim, for a toddler. Still, it was a product of fear, not planning: doubtless if she had hit him with whatever curse she was brewing up for the vendor, he would have been knocked off his feet, and that was _with_ his long-practised resistance to magic. Perhaps it would not _kill_ the vendor, but without a healer…

Interesting.

With a swift motion, Hubert snatched the girl up, one gloved hand over both of her little ones in order to stifle her own magic while the other supported her.

“ **No! Bad man, stop it! Please!** Please - goddess! Goddess good! Forgive me!”

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he stepped back into the market: clearly, this child had spent enough time around the priests and monks that she had picked up more specific parts of the country’s language.

She would quickly learn that no prayers to the goddess would make Hubert, of all people, listen.

The look of absolute bewilderment Edelgard gave him when he reappeared almost brought a smile to his face, at the least. Byleth as well, though his much more suppressed. Of course, by the laugh Claude gave and the way Byleth brought her head to rest in one of her hands, it was clear _those_ two were familiar with this particular urchin.

Sure enough, Claude tried for a placating smile. “Amira, come on. It’s fine! **The nasty man won't hurt you, I promise**.”

The way the archbishop’s lips turned up to smile a bit, Hubert almost wanted to ask what he said. Almost.

At least it got the girl to stop struggling, settling on a pout. Hubert shook his head at the display, passing a _very_ unamused look over the rulers of the monarchy. “She was trying to hex a vendor to death. I thought that the monastery no longer held on to wandering orphans?”

Byleth nodded in return, giving a very small grin to the little girl before her gaze turned back to Hubert. “That is true. We try to relocate any orphans we come across to actual orphanages throughout the monarchy… Cyril was the one that found her, and brought her here. Claimed that he and Lysithea would have taken her in if they didn’t already have their hands full…”

“Yeah, only this particular brat absolutely _refuses_ to get carted off to just any ol’ orphanage,” Claude supplied, smirk widening when Amira, the girl’s name seemed to be, stuck her tongue out. “Apparently she’s all fond of me and Cyril, and wants nothing to do with anyone else. It’s probably because she doesn’t have a big grip on Fódlan’s language, still, despite the staff’s attempts. Can’t really blame her, she was found after some Goneril soldiers stole her from an unauthorized skirmish and was about to be sold to some low ranking nobles, but that got shut down when Cyril was thrown into the mix.”

“ **I don't wanna go. No orphanage...** Mama said...”

For once, Claude’s face became uncharacteristically serious. “ **I know, kid, you just want to go back home. But your mama and your siblings aren't there.** ”

Amira let out a little screech, one of her hands escaping Hubert’s to swipe in Claude’s direction, a dark bolt flying from her fingertips. He merely tilted his head an inch to the right, apparently used to this action.

Hubert absolutely loathed how endearing the action seemed, to him. Exhaling through his nose, he resigned himself to his next words.

“You were attempting murder of the first degree due to hunger, correct? Will you let up on your hexes if I simply acquire some food for you?”

Amira’s green eyes snapped back to Hubert’s face, bewildered and bright, before she wrapped her tough fingers into his jacket, almost shouting.

“Yes, I want food! Fruit! Apple!”

“She’s got a sweet tooth,” Riviera quipped, materializing to clutch at her mother’s skirt, “she likes to chase us around for candy if she sees us. Pretty sure Xavier caught her chewing on a Honeyed-Fruit blend tea bag.”

“The monster likes tea?” Hubert mused, noting with only some interest that Amira had settled against his chest, quite content to be there now that he had promised her food. In return to his question, however, she dragged her nails down his chest, voice becoming petulant.

“It’s warm! Nice. Not like you, _stinky_.”

 _That_ charming sentiment got a snort and laugh from Edelgard, Byleth nodding his head solemnly. “Hubert does often smell bitter. It’s the coffee.”

Despite the gremlin turning his own lieges against him, Hubert went through on his offer to buy her something to eat. The little menace was delighted with the apples and candy he got her, and within moments she was either terrorizing Xavier and Nordan or latched onto Hubert’s leg. It was the third time that she ran after the younger twin that Edelgard approached him, hand gentle on his shoulder.

“Hubert, you’re smiling.”

“Preposterous.” (He was.)

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve grown attached to the child.”

“Absurd.” (He had.)

“It seems a shame, then, that you don’t care for her. She doesn’t get along very well with the church staff; according to Claude they keep trying to mold her into a future nun for Sothis. Not to mention the entire clergy looks down upon her use of dark magic. He and the archbishop already have their hands full with four children, especially since Markel’s still so young.”

Hubert refused to look at her. Edelgard rested her chin on her hand, musing to herself in a way that certainly, definitely, had nothing to do with Hubert’s possible attachment to the child.

“Apparently part of the problem is Amira doesn’t _want_ to be taken in by Claude and Byleth, or even Cyril and Lysithea, even if any of them could. She’s very adamant about not replacing her mother. Apparently they reached out to the Kirsten-Victors, but they already have four children of their own, and Ignatz appeared quite anxious at the idea of another… especially one so temperamental as her.”

“Perhaps she would find a good home in Linhardt and Caspar.” Hubert definitely didn’t sound bitter at all when he said it. He didn’t care about the girl, after all.

Edelgard scoffed at that, pinching the skin along Hubert’s elbow through his clothing. “They’re still running around like madmen, Hubert! Amira is four, from what I’ve learned, and there is a _reason_ neither of the two of them have ever considered raising a child.”

“Caspar seemed quite enamored with the idea-”

“ _Hubert_ ,” Edelgard scolded, forcing him to look at her, “she likes _you_. Claude says you’re the first adult from outside the monastery she’s ever voluntarily gone near.”

Alright, he had to give up his denial, now that her lavender eyes were trained in on him. “Are you proposing that I simply take her back to Enbarr without word to Ferdinand? Lady Edelgard, that is beside the fact that she is _Almyran_. She’ll be a point of gossip amongst the empire with how little she’ll fit in. Though I loathe to admit it, one must consider prior experiences. Cyril was constantly the target of harassment at the academy, and von Riegan was disliked and distrusted by even some of his closest peers.”

“Dear friend, I’m not sure how to put it kindly: you and yours are already strange enough. Enbarr _loves_ prattling on about our dearest two jewels and their marvelous children, and I assure you, all of you seem plenty odd already to the public eye. Amira will fit right in with the circus you run at home. Even if she is surrounded by malicious entities, is that not even more reason for you to raise her? Cyril and Claude were always so terribly fond of Byleth because _she_ was bizarre, because she treated them as though they _weren’t_. Ferdinand already sprung two children of his own on you without warning, it’s due time you return the favor.”

With that, Hubert’s resolve splintered, and he went off to seek out the archbishop.

While Byleth seemed to go about the legality of the ordeal, Claude was the one to really brief Hubert on just what he was getting himself into. Apparently Amira’s father had died long enough ago that she hardly remembered him, but her mother she still loved and missed dearly. She had a younger brother whose name she could not remember, but she had called him what Hubert was informed was the Almyran word for baby, despite him likely only being a year or two younger than she was. Amira clearly remembered her older sister, however, Clare, who often looked after her and her brother. Amira liked all manners of sweet things and detested vegetables or anything bitter, which Claude had said with some amusement. He’d lend Hubert some texts to learn how to translate Almyran, and said not to worry too much about her learning the language of Fódlan; she was bright, and still quite young.

The only thing Claude admitted to being hesitant about was Amira’s sleeping habits. She was, despite all the manners she put up, a frightened child, and she didn’t make a habit of sleeping in front of anyone that wasn’t at least partly Almyran. Even Byleth had never been alone with her as she slept, often resulting in the poor monastery staff finding the girl curled up in the most strange of places, tucked out of the view of people.

Hubert hadn’t realized how much of a problem this would be, at first. He already had to deal with attempting to get her to come back to Enbarr with him.

Amira shuffled under his gaze, though she peered back up at him in equal measure, lips pursed tight and fists balled at her sides. Claude sat on the advisory desk, Byleth standing by the door, as the decision was finalized.

Hubert crouched down, noting that her eyes got more ferocious the closer he got to her height. “Amira, would you like to come and live with me?”

That certainly got a reaction. She gaped, briefly staring at Claude, before snapping her attention back to Hubert.

Hubert himself had been learning for years just how to speak to children. It was not a skill he had set out to acquire, but one that had come over time while raising his sons. It certainly required a great deal of patience that Hubert had once thought had been reserved only for Edelgard.

And later, Ferdinand.

And later, all of his comrades in arms, like it or not.

Amira looked at him with great suspicion. “Live with you?”

A nod. Patience, Hubert reminded himself. “With me and my family. You would be a part of the family: a von Vestra, if you so wished.”

A far darker glower. “Only _my_ mama. No other.”

“I do not have a wife,” Hubert admitted, “though I have quite the insufferable husband. We have two sons, as well, both older than you. You would have two fathers and two brothers.”

Amira pouted to herself, looking away. “ **You're gonna make me a slave.** ”

“Nah,” Claude shrugged, half-smile lazy and reassuring, “it’s okay, Amira, Hubert and Ferdinand aren’t the kind of people to do that. They’ve never even tried to hurt me or Cyril, or our kids. **I wouldn't let you end up in the hands of someone who'd hurt you.** ”

A lie. Hubert would have scoffed at it if he didn’t have a child to convince right in front of him. “I would never endeavor to harm you. I would care for you alongside my own sons, as you would be a daughter to me.”

Silence. She appeared to be quite the indecisive toddler.

Fine. Hubert would play his trump card. “You would have all the apples and other treats you desired within reach. Your other father would have tea prepared for you within moments should you ask. Honestly, there’s more tea in our home than in the rest of the capital combined. You would be able to learn as much magic as you wished.”

Something small and sad seemed to rush over Amira’s face, and soon the child was hugging herself, kicking lightly at the floor.

“It… gonna be safe? No… no big… no big knife? **No soldiers with swords and no biting wyverns? You're not gonna die and leave me behind?** ”

Claude stood from the desk, voice as calming as he could ever make it. “Hey, c’mon now, **everything will be okay, you'll be safe and sound. Hubert's a very scary person, so no one will mess with him or you or anyone else.** I’m the king, remember? It’s illegal for me to lie.”

With a short bob of a nod and tears threatening to spill over in the sharp green eyes, Amira shuffled a few paces closer to Hubert, for once not making eye contact.

“Won’t find brothers dead on bed? You and… and F, Fer won’t… won’t die in fire? Not gonna see your head on **pike** outside? I getta have a home? Not… not gonna get me hurt?”

Something broke inside of Hubert when Amira patted her hand upon her cheek where a long scar lay, shining with its coat of tears. He remembered the first prolonged time he had held Gottfried, when he kept him close and promised that nothing in the entire world would ever be able to hurt him so long as Hubert lived. And when Ludolf was born, sneaking in to look at his bassinet at night when Ferdinand was particularly obstinate about Hubert having no business with _his_ children, running his soiled, kill-scarred fingers through the baby’s soft pink hair, and promising again that even if Ferdinand ever realized the truth that Hubert was no good for him, for them, and left, he would still make sure to keep him safe, so that he could smile all day like his father and never have to lift a finger if he didn’t want to like his mother.

He remembered swearing it all over again with Ferdinand’s hands in his as Edelgard herself officiated their wedding. How he had made sure that everywhere they resided was covered in plush carpeting so that no trip would result in scraped knees or bashed heads.

So far it had been successful. At ten and eight, Gottfried and Ludolf had no injury-related scars. They only ever cried when simply emotional, especially in the case of Gottfried, never out of pain. They had nightmares, but they were almost always nonsensical.

This little girl had lost _everything_ she had loved.

It reminded him so terribly of another little girl who had watched the world she knew burn and crumble around her. Another girl with scars and no one she could trust.

No one except Hubert.

So he approached her, instead, tired of watching her shake, and picked her up just as he had done to prevent her from murder, this time using his hand to run his fingers through her hair in such a gentle manner that two decades ago would have been absolutely ridiculous to witness.

“I’ll protect you from all the monsters of this world. I swear it.”

***

The ride back was greatly tedious, if only because Hubert had now acquired a toddler who refused to sleep and also had to fend off Edelgard’s wry smiles and teases to him the entire way back.

Amira was quite fascinated by Edelgard and Byleth, at least. She was used to the archbishop and Claude enough that the idea that they were just another version of them seemed to comfort her. Explaining just who Edelgard was had been fairly amusing, with Amira scrambling to sit up a little straighter, her little voice calling out “Miss Lady Eldgard!” as some sort of apology for her behavior.

Edelgard had a touched hand over her heart up until Amira did the same for Byleth, with a “Bye-let, sir!” at which she could not help but laugh.

Even Byleth cracked a smile watching Hubert attempt to get Amira to call him father. The only thing he had gotten in return was a “What you say, Hoobert,” and a murmured “ **father** ” that he almost didn’t catch.

He’d have to put in the effort to learn Almyran at this rate.

After some time it had grown dark out, and Amira had curled up on the seat, adamant about not sleeping. Even so, her thick head of hair was pressed up against Hubert’s elbow as he read, eyes drooping. After the fifth or six little yawn, however, Hubert set the novel aside, sliding his hands around Amira and pulling her onto his lap, arms around her. She hardly threw a fit, though soft words did break the silence.

“Not… **sleepy** …”

Giving a small pat to her head as she pressed up against his chest, he nodded, taking a guess at what she meant. “Of course not. Even so, you can see that her Majesty has already fallen asleep on Byleth. Neither of them are capable of harming you, especially not with me here. I daresay you’re far safer here in my arms than out in the world on your own.”

Her only response was a soft “ _Hoo_ ” and to bury her face into him.

By the time they arrived in Enbarr, she had fallen asleep on him.

It had been difficult to bring her inside without accidentally waking her, but Hubert had learned a thing or two about carrying children over the years.

Soon enough, he was standing outside the wing of the palace that had been devoted to the Vestras, and now, Aegirs.

Hubert hated to wake Amira, but it’d likely be better off if she realized where she was and who she was with.

“Amira,” he spoke lowly, running his fingers through her hair, “wake up.”

The child made a small noise, shifting in his arms. Bleary green eyes looked up to him in confusion in the darkness, coaxing the smallest of smiles from Hubert.

“You’re home.”

As he opened the door, Amira buried her face back into him as if to hide. Hubert could have laughed, truly, at how similar the action was to how Gottfried and Ludolf had behaved when they were small. Of course, Gottfried had quickly grown into his extroversion, becoming the sort of child to enthusiastically greet strangers, much to the anxiety of his overprotective fathers. Ludolf was still just a little shy, much more apt to hide even now at eight.

He wasn’t surprised to see Ferdinand still awake, bent over their desk and writing something. His hair was braided in a slightly lopsided fashion, showing that Ludolf was likely the culprit. He had already dressed down to his underclothes, the picture of sleepy and still warm that Hubert adored when all laced up in diligence.

Sure enough, at the sound of the Hubert’s entrance, Ferdinand’s face lit up in a bright smile as he stood. “Ah, welcome home, I thought I’d stay up for-”

The younger man stopped as he fully took in the sight before him. With a small step forward, his smile dropped to something far more confused.

“Hubert, I love you, you’re the most wonderful man, but I simply must inquire: did you kidnap Markel von Riegan?”

At that, Amira’s little head swiveled, glaring at Ferdinand like an angry kitten. “Markel! Ugh… **stupid** baby. Name’s _Amiiira_.”

Ferdinand glanced between Amira and Hubert, uncertain. “Well, your eyes _are_ green I suppose, not blue like the little one’s. Ah… my name, sweetheart, is Ferdinand von Aegir. I’m Hubert’s-”

“ **Father** Fer!” Amira interrupted, waking up more as she sat in Hubert’s arms. “Ferrr… Fer’nan!”

“Er… **father**?” Ferdinand parroted, getting a rapid set of nods from the little girl. Hubert shrugged in return.

“Apparently the Lord of Ordelia found her in the aftermath of violence in some corner of Almyra. Rather than allow her to be bid on by Leicester nobles, he brought her to the monastery. She has a rather high potential for-”

“Hoobert said tea here! Tea an’ food, no getting hurt! Gonna teach magic!”

“Is that so?” Ferdinand could not help but smile, reaching his hand out to her, “If you’re interested in tea and food, then yes! This is quite the right place to be.”

Amira enthusiastically grabbed his hand, shaking it vigorously and prompting a small laugh from Ferdinand. The whole scene… Hubert had to admit, it warmed his very soul, whatever of such a thing had been left after all the deeds he’d done.

“Her Majesty said that you’d been very one-sided in the acquisition of our sons, so I… decided perhaps it was time to contribute. Amira is a von Vestra now, legally recognized by the Archbishop and King, as she was in their custody as a child of the state.”

“Oh… oh!” Ferdinand lit up, blinding to one so dark as Hubert. “She’s ours - our daughter? That’s - that’s wonderful! Oh, Amira dear, just wait until morning, Gottfried and Ludolf are going to be so excited to meet you! But it’s late - I’m certain a maid can prepare a room in our wing just for you in a few minutes, allow me to-”

“ **No**!” Amira squawked, clutching a bit tighter to Hubert’s clothes, “ **No** … I…”

“You can sleep with us tonight if you’d prefer,” Hubert offered, voice blank alongside his face. Amira relaxed slightly, resting back against his chest.

“Yes, of course,” Ferdinand added, far softer than his husband, “you’re more than welcome to sleep with us tonight, dear, if it’ll make you feel more secure.”

It was fairly easy going from there. Her clothes were easily replaced with one of Hubert’s shirts, her hair brushed out by Ferdinand with such an easy devotion that Hubert could not help but kiss along the shell of his ear, lips resting on his forehead again when they faced each other in bed, a warm little bundle resting between them.

Safe, now. Just as Hubert had promised she would be.

And yes, later on, she’d grow out of this rare meekness. She’d grow into a young girl that would tackle her brothers to the ground, wrestling Ludolf in the dirt; she’d grow into a proper young vassal for Reinhilde, tailing her less like a shadow and more like a puppy; she’d be a bridge between Hubert and Claude, finally, one that Hubert had never truly believed he would cross; she would throw a fit when being sent to the officer’s academy, and then write back in the first week that she had successfully beaten Gerd Fraldarius in an ‘unofficial brawling tournament’ and then a series of letters later on addressed solely to Ferdinand, not for Hubert’s eyes, about how Gerd’s eyes were really dumb and pretty and how she wanted to beat him up or tell him to leave the academy so she didn’t have to see his stupid face anymore, something that would make Ferdinand laugh so hard Edelgard would demand to read the letter as well, later making a comment on how the young Vestra was _so_ like her father.

But for now, it was enough to promise her that nothing would hurt her again. It was a promise Hubert had all intentions of keeping, as impossible as it was.

He had not succeeded in sheltering the first tormented child in his care from her demons. No, he had simply had to settle in supporting her, but maybe this time…

This time, perhaps, Amira’s happiness would not need war to be won.


End file.
